Sunday, September 28, 2008

I come to you today to report the passing of a dear friend. A friend I could always turn to, day or night. A friend who brought me great joy -- and at times -- great frustration. I'm talking about Scrabulous.com.

(I would offer the link, but the result is now a Danica Patrick ad for GoDaddy.com domain services.)

Though happily married, I've been in a relationship with Scrabulous for probably close to two years. Not to worry, my husband was aware of this intellectual affair and he supported it. After all, if I could get my Scrabble needs fulfilled elsewhere, he didn't have to indulge me in a game he knew he would lose in the end.

It started out as an innocent internet search; we all know where those can lead. One word -- Scrabble -- typed into Google and life as I knew it changed. I found Scrabulous.com, where I could play the game I loved 24/7.

* Where the only cost to play was the hours of sleep I lost in the pursuit of "just one more game."

* Where most people were cordial and of good cheer and where those who resorted to foul language and bad sportsmanship were banned from participating.

* Where the differences between people in the United States, Australia, England and India were less important that the differences between their rankings (mine was 1748 when the end occurred).

* Where I learned acceptable "Q" words that don't require a "u," including qaid, qi and qintar.

* Where sometimes the games were long and linguistically passionate, while other times a "quickie" fit the bill.

* Where vocabulary was sexy. (Don't believe me? Check out this music video -- warning, includes the word a$$ and some "sexy" scenes.)

I knew its days were numbered. When Scrabulous was yanked from Facebook after pressure from Hasbro, I knew it was only a matter of time before my love would be forbidden. That time came yesterday. I clicked my Scrabulous bookmark and realized it was gone.

And so I'm here to say, thank you Scrabulous. Thank you for stretching my mind. Thank you for being there in my times of insomnia. Thank you for being a socially acceptable addiction. It was fun while it lasted. You will be missed.